CHAPTER 8

“The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get upin the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.”
-Robert Frost

From where she kneeled behind the Caribbean copper plant, it looked like the zombie and his human friend were setting up some kind of living quarters in the abandoned fueling depot. A resort maintenance truck had been out earlier that morning running cables and loading in what looked like air conditioners.
     She turned to Dog.
     “Looks like we’ve got neighbors,” she said.
     Dog brushed one paw lazily over the sand, thinking about the current predicament. Finally he looked up, giving her a small shrug.
     “Oh, you think it’d be good to have some rotting human contact I suppose?”
     Dog cast his eyes off to the side.
     “What about the zombie friend? Should I take him out before they get settled? Maybe I should do it now?”
     Dog was still getting used to the way she thought. There was never any clear decision made, unlike himself. Or his former self. He could vaguely remember a time when impulse was the rule to live by and life seemed so much simpler. But now, he too had begun to question things. Like, would rabbit taste better cooked or raw as he always liked. And if he wanted it cooked, would that make him too reliant on her? He heaved a heavy sigh, which she took as an answer to her last question.
     “I’ll wait then,” she said. “There’s something up with these two. Let’s go get dinner.”
     Dog thought to himself, rabbit or fish?
     As She and Dog walked back into the jungle, Kyle and Virgil stood on the bamboo porch while the workmen hooked up the air conditioners, the satellite dish, the computers and various modern gadgets that made it a four star sausage farm hangout.
     It was Kyle who discovered the abandoned fuel depot while on a pity walk along the shore. He had been thinking that he needed to get off the island as soon as possible. But then he started asking himself that besides the possibility of being turned into a flesh eating undead guy, what was there to go back to? His dog? Sure. But, it was never really his dog to begin with. Chief Brody was better off with Gina as Stephanie. So what else? A job search? A new girlfriend? Some faceless apartment? A cool breeze filled his loose fitting linen shirt as an answer to his probing. But what about Virgil coaxing him here? How fucked up was that? And this whole undead stuff. How did that happen in the world he knew?
     Sheep are cloned; the Red Sox won; C students become Presidents, Kyle thought. Zombies ain’t shit.
     That’s when Kyle spotted the Quonset hut. Made of rusted, corregated metal and bamboo patching, the hut looked like a set piece out of Saving Private Ryan. It sat right on the beach facing the ocean and had a vibe that indicated time moved at half speed once you stepped inside. Kyle knew instantly that it would be idea central if he was to stay and work on this crazy notion of a resort. An added-on porch ran the length of the building with a bamboo and palm leaf roof. Kyle could easily visualize warm nights, kicking back in cheap diner chairs, sipping tequila with beer chasers, white dangling lights strung overhead swaying softly in the tradewinds.
     This was how art directors thought, in idyllic settings available in the finest cruise ship ads. But Kyle actually did think that this time such a tableau was possible. When he headed back to the resort Kyle told Virgil he found the perfect office to work in.
     “You mean other than the lavishly appointed movie theatre, dining room or any other high end locale within the resort?” Virgil asked.
     “Did you ever actually work in an advertising agency?” Kyle asked.
     “Uh, yeah. You were there too.”
     “No, I mean physically,” Kyle said. “We worked in every coffee shop, bar and restaurant within a 5 block radius of whatever ad agency we were at. We never worked in the agency. And for good reason.”
     “Remember when we tried to work at that strip club, what was the name?”
     “The Velvet Palace. Listen Virg, I can’t work here. It’s like Microsoft with taste.”
     Virgil exhaled. “Johnette’s gonna be all over us to show work, and I’m sure Jackson will happen to pop by.”
     “Thas’ what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” Kyle said. “We gotta be free from meetings, schedules, drive-by small talk. Plus, we’ll need nap time.”
     “So what’d you find, a spare conference room?”
     “Better,” Kyle said. “Follow me.”
     And so Virgil did, getting more nervous with each footstep away from the air conditioned resort: the safe zone to Virgil, where all needs were met in a climate controlled setting. Finally rounding a growth of palm trees that missed the shore by a few feet, Virgil saw the remnants of something decrepit and un-air conditioned.
     “Duder, I give you four hours before the stench kicks in,” Virgil said. “And I’m not talkin’ about the building.”
     The innards of the Quonset hut were remarkably sound. The walls were a mix of severely chipped aqua and green paint, the metal supports beam a bright green patina from the elements. The ceiling was comprised of thin metal rafters, corregated metal, and steel truss work. The floor boards had been covered with a light blue and white linoleum tile that had faded into muted tones. The windows are large and arched, some of the glass missing. One entire portion of a side wall held a huge map of the Turks, Caicos and Grand Caymen islands. There were pencil scrawlings covering the map with latitude and longitude coordinates, notes about fuel runs, supply lists, combinations of numbers and the name “Wicked Lester” with a phone number: Klondike-5-5959. It looked like a scene out of “Raiders of the Lost Ark” set in the Caribbean.
     “We’ll get some air conditioners,” Kyle said. “Or else work by walkie-talkie.”
     Kyle was doing his best not to sound vengeful but if he was going to be lured to a remote island by a zombie best friend, a little payback was in order. But truth be told, Kyle felt something for the old building, almost like it was an architectural representation of himself. Virgil would have to suck it up – or rot. Besides, deep down, Kyle hoped against hope that there would be a way for Virgil to be human again and that by being out here in the elements, that would remind Virgil of what he once was.